


Even if you wreck me

by AllthePainofChemicalDays



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Drug Use, Hurt Stiles, I'm Bad At Tagging, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-01-05 04:49:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12183186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllthePainofChemicalDays/pseuds/AllthePainofChemicalDays
Summary: "No, you just wanted to catch me, and put me behind bars. Fuck, you did everything to catch me, and what'd that get you? An itch you can't scratch and more felonies than you can count on one hand. And now I've got you right where I want you."Stiles gets in over his head.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> un-betad, title from the song "Cops" by K.Flay

_“I never needed drugs; everything I loved destroyed me enough,” unknown_

      With shaking hands, Stiles rolls the twenty-dollar bill into a cylinder and puts it to his nose. He leans over the coffee table and inhales sharply. He sits back on the ratty couch and closes his eyes, breathing heavily. The rush of his blood and the accelerated thump-thump-thump of his heart beating fills his head, and faintly he worries it’ll get to be too much for his already ragged senses.

      “I never needed drugs, until you,” he mutters under his breath. The man sitting across from him smirks and prepares another line.

      “No, you just wanted to catch me, and put me behind bars. And you would’ve done anything to get me. Fuck, you did everything to catch me, and what’d that get you Stiles? An itch you can’t scratch and more felonies than you can count on one hand,” he chuckles to himself and watches the younger man pant, his eyes hooded and cloudy. “And now I’ve got you right where I want you.”

       Stiles’ skin crawls at those words, and he shivers, momentarily losing all control over his limbs. He swipes the white powder off the table and sits up quickly, blood rushing to his head and making him dizzy. He holds his head in his hands and curses. “I fucking hate you, I fucking goddamn hate you, you son of a bitch,” he says.

       The man just smiles and gestures to the shadows behind the couch. Two men materialize out of the darkness and come forward, one laying a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. This causes him to shake, and he looks up at the man, his eyes wet.

        “Please don’t. Please please please please,” He lets the tears fall freely, hoping for mercy. The man shakes his head and gestures once again and Stiles’ is lifted from his seat and dragged, kicking, into the dark.

        “Please! Please, Derek! Don’t do this to me! Derek!” His screaming fades until silence falls onto the room again. The man shakes his head and snorts a line.

        “I’m not through with you yet, Stiles.”


	2. and i lived so much life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stiles is let out to play

   He’d worked hard his whole life. A kid with everything to prove and nothing to lose. He broke free from the small town of Beacon Hills and all the close-minded sheep who were content to spend their lives saying ‘Hi’ to their neighbors and never having an ounce of excitement in their lives. No, Stilinski had big plans for his life. He wasn’t going to be like his dad, just a sheriff. He was ambitious, but reckless. Nobody wanted to work with him. He was unpredictable.

   And then his dad died and he truly had nothing. Scott went off to technical college to be a Veterinary Assistant right after graduation, and Lydia went to a university, fifty miles from Beacon Hills. And Stiles? Stiles went to the city to chase after criminals and fell head-first down the rabbit hole. He threw himself into his work. And when Derek Hale took over the family business when his older sister, Laura, was killed by their uncle, Stilinski begged to be put on the case.

   This meant a six-month undercover investigation. Only, it didn’t end there. Stiles grew quiet, more secretive to his superiors, stopped checking in on time. And then, he dropped off the face of the earth…

*now*

   Stiles stood on a dimly lit street corner, shakily lifting a cigarette to his lips. Shielding his lighter from the wind, he lights it, and takes a deep drag, feeling a slight calm come over him as the nicotine floods his system. He looks around, and pulls his black hoodie closer to himself, seeming to shrink. He hurriedly walks across the street and towards a first-floor club. Thumping bass shakes the nearby windows and he can feel it in his blood. A purple neon sign above a single industrial-style door reads ‘ _The Beacon_ ’. Stiles snorts, _‘so original’_ , he thinks.

   He sneaks by the surly-looking giant silently guarding the door while another, less intimidating giant checks a list for the names of a trio of giggling, college-age girls drunkenly lean on each other. He lowers his eyes and skirts past the group, pushing open the door and slipping quietly into the club. Pushing through the crowd of dancers, he heads straight to the back, passing a well-lit stage with a single red-headed beauty dancing on a pole. He stares for a second, swallowing hard and dragging himself away. The back of the club houses a large room with a dozen smaller maze-like rooms. Stiles enters the maze and heads to one of the curtained rooms.

   Pulling the curtain aside, he sees a dark figure sitting on a black couch pushed up against one wall.

   “You really think meeting here is a good idea, Stilinski? Like to live dangerously or something?” the figure asks, the shadows in the room moving when they look up.

   Stiles moves to a pink velvet armchair and tucks his legs under him as he settles in.

   He shrugs, “I have time. He won’t think to look here for a while. Come on, would you?” Smirking to himself, he straightens and smooths the crease out of his jeans. The figure shakes its head and leans forward.

   “He hasn’t let you out to play in a long time. Why now?”

   Stiles fidgets, chewing his nails and looking away instead of addressing the question.

   “I don’t know. Not like I have the luxury to ask questions like you, Lahey. All I know is I woke up this morning without the normal haze so do you wanna know what I know? Or are you just gonna keep silently judging me?” He narrows his eyes at the officer who has the decency to look slightly abashed. Suddenly, he puts his feet down and leans in pinning his ex-partner with a hard stare. “For all I know it’s already too late for Argent. But maybe not for his daughter. Save her before Hale gets to her.” Lahey pulls out a tape recorder from his coat pocket and turns it on.

   “Still looking out for Scott, huh Stiles? Even beyond the grave,” Stiles sits back uncomfortably. “But you hate when I mention him. Why is that?”

   “Do you want to hear what I know or not? I can leave if you’re just going to waste my time Isaac. This shit doesn’t help me, if anything it makes it all worse,” Stiles stands, taking a step towards the curtain. Isaac gestures calmly for him to sit back down.

   “I’m sorry, just sit down and start talking.”

   Stiles does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long to update this.  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> will probably continue
> 
> feedback always appreciated :)


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